


Minimum Viable Population

by yonderdarling



Series: The Grand Sci-Fi Fuckathon of Hitler and Stalin [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, a sex pollen fic in all but sex pollen, may be consent issues for some people, serious biological fic about biology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-24
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-02-26 21:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2666582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yonderdarling/pseuds/yonderdarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Gallifreyan sexualities, genders and sex drives fluctuate over lives and over bodies, and eventually they both figure out if Gallifrey still was, rather than no longer is, the Twelfth Doctor would have remained as he had been upon regeneration and the pre-Mistress days . That is, in answer to the aforementioned three characteristics, 'mostly none,' 'mostly male,' and 'no thanks,' respectively. But Gallifrey is (for now) no more, and though the Mistress would be happy to remain 'mostly none,' 'mostly female, these days,' and 'occasionally, but be mindful of my trick hip,' well biology intrudes. It makes things difficult." A very serious scientific fanfic about the nature of biology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Minimum Viable Population

**Author's Note:**

> This fic contains scenes where sexuality labels are discussed in a humorous context, but are not the source of the humor themselves. Further, there is the potential for questionable consent to be interpreted from some scenes within this fic. If you feel this might be an issue, please check out the end notes for more details.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know those fanfics where characters are compelled to shag because of some kind of spell, or sex pollen? This is that fanfic, only without the spell or sex pollen.

 There is an unfortunate, unwelcome intrusion into what becomes their usual routine of 'accidentally meet, Doctor overthrows the Mistress' plan, later on they go out for tea and biscuits.' That intrusion is biology, and it's been intruding since they were children, in a manner of speaking - Theta liked astrophysics, Koschei liked mechanical physics and engineering and Ushas always came top of any of the biology classes so what was the point, really? 

**'Minimum Viable Population' - the estimated population size to ensure between 90-95% probability of survival between 100-1000 years into the future.**

This Doctor - Twelve, this one, how time flies - is older, and wiser, and calmer than he's been in a few bodies, and decidedly less athletic and flexible. This is all extremely obvious in comparison to his Tenth body. This Doctor doesn't kiss with fire, desperation and urgency, but more with reverence and remembrance, gently, softly, and caring. For the first time in a very long time, they're actually acting like an old married couple. Missy would complain about it, but she's in the same boat age-wise and eventually after they both throw out their backs attempting to screw up against the wall of Petrograd's Winter Palace in 1916 - long story - well, tea, biscuits and hand holding on the banks of some river seem a more tempting and sensible option. Not that they've never thrown out their backs before, but usually it was a more difficult position, and well her hip isn't the way it used to be.

 

**Ne (v) = p(1-p)/2var^p (Wright's equation for effective population size).**

 

Gallifreyan sexualities, genders and sex drives fluctuate over lives and over bodies, and eventually they both figure out if Gallifrey still was, rather than no longer is, the Twelfth Doctor would have remained as he had been upon regeneration and the pre-Mistress days . That is, in answer to the aforementioned three characteristics, 'mostly none,' 'mostly male,' and 'no thanks,' respectively. But Gallifrey is (for now) no more, and though she too would be happy to remain 'mostly none,' 'mostly female, these days,' and 'occasionally, but be mindful of my trick hip,' well biology intrudes. It makes things difficult. 

 They didn't notice it the first few times they crossed paths, for a variety of reasons.

_1\. Location: Graveyard, England, Earth, Day of Cyberman invasion #1473 (The St. Paul's Incursion, see UNIT file D.R.W 2027 for further details)_

Reason for lack of biological reaction:

Kind of busy at the time (Mistress), Typical levels of attraction that I have learnt to ignore, unless it suits my nefarious plans (Mistress), as far as I knew, she was trying to destroy the planet or something, I was distracted (Doctor).

_2.Location: TARDIS, former locale of Gallifrey_

Reason for lack of biological reaction: 

Distracted by equal communication and conversation with other final member of my race in millennia/centuries (Doctor/Mistress), was pissed off she lied about Gallifrey (Doctor), for me the attraction was there but he was being all soppy and that's a real turnoff (Mistress), emotional baggage was distracting, didn't notice the sweaty palms and shaky knees until later (Doctor).

_3\. Location: Grand Canyon, United States of America, Earth, 1876 AD_

Reason for lack of biological reaction:

He knows damn well why (Mistress), was diverted by appearance of donkey (Doctor). 

_4\. Location: Kaythixbey, Ixikbraithix X4352st.B_

Distracted by lethal flesh-eating gas (Doctor/Mistress), still had donkey in tow (Mistress), is now willing to admit that yes the donkey was an issue (Doctor).

_5\. Location: Brisbane, Australia, Earth, 2014 AD_

Arrived, felt presence of Australian national leader and was unable to focus on anything else due to disgust (Doctor), was in communication with alien wearing the form of the Russian national leader and had other things to do (Mistress), way too hot to consider doing anything else (Doctor/Mistress).

   
On a conscious level, they were happy to live, biologically non-intrusively, but on an unconscious level, things began to change. It truly started when the Doctor, with Clara and Courtney in tow, ran into the Mistress in the Scottish highlands in the mid-1700s. They were all a bit surprised and annoyed, especially Clara, who managed to end the meeting by nailing the Mistress in the head with a handy set of bagpipes. The conversation was as follows:

 

M: "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

D: "Nor I - you, what are you, you what are you doing here?"

M: "Why are you wearing a kilt?"

D: "Well, everyone else was, so I-"

M: "You have lovely knees."

D: "Oh why I - thank you!"

 

Later, witness to the scene, Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods, invoked early 21st Century prose to describe their physical reactions to each other, as transcribed below.

CW: "It was like, they looked at each other in the eyes, and phwoom! Like no one else in the room existed, you know? And they they got real awkward talking to each other, kind of knees weak arms spaghetti you know? And that was when Miss got her in the head with the bagpipes, that was well wicked."

 

**"It's not until 32 people, so 16 couples, that a sustainable human population, assuming multiple successful pregnancies, can form. You'd want more to be sure, and can we have frozen embryos, sperm and eggs in this scenario? Anyway, it's all theoretical, and assumes so many other factors, like environment and food supplies, are stable and predictable." - some guy on the internet.**

 

They met on Spirix, a planet originally founded by Sprite, via the Coca Cola company, given a sci-fiesque "-ix" suffix after a war with the people of Mezzo Mix required a name change. The people of Rasperra Fernta, a small town upon the planet, wanted revolution. The Doctor and Clara had spent three days trying to convince them that revolutions usually didn't end well ("Look at the legend of the city of Pepsa!" "I don't know what that is, but have you seen Les Mis?"), only to be interrupted by the arrival of Missy. Missy brought with her weapons, armaments, blueprints to the Houses of Parliaments and a rather different set of ideas regarding revolution. 

As such things are wont to do, it ended up in a public debate in the Town Hall. Clara, English teacher and angry glarer extraordinaire, was assigned to adjudicate. The first speakers were the young, blonde, intelligent, impressionable and idealised youth (in the for side), and the town judge (in the against). The second speakers were a clean-cut, wealthier looking boy who kept gazing at some blonde in the third row (in the for side) and one of the women who ran a store selling fruit (against). Finally, it was the Mistress against the Doctor (in the debate. They weren't physically against each other. Yet). 

"On the against side, the Doctor, and for the for side, this b- the Mistress," said Clara, to strained and scattered applause.

The Doctor and Missy took to the stage and stood behind their respective podiums. The Doctor spoke first, and the Mistress was in the middle of her first argument hen they both made a grievous error. After somehow avoiding it since the Mistress had turned up, the pair of them looked at each other at the exact same moment and locked eyes for the first time since the Highlands. Missy faltered mid-speech. The Doctor was supremely glad his lower half was concealed behind the podium. After a few minutes of staring and silence, the townspeople begin to grow jittery. Then rowdy. Then, despite Clara's valiant efforts to restore order, the non-revolutionaries join with the revolutionaries, unified with the joint effort of running the Doctor, Clara and Missy out of town.

Clara basically dragged the Doctor into the TARDIS, as he and Missy locked eyes again while running for their lives. The Time Gentry ended up frozen on the doors of their respective TARDISes, gaping longingly at each other until Clara bodily shoved the Doctor inside the time machine.

She was so not amused. Once they were safely in the vortex, far from the planet of the soft-drink and the Mistress, the Doctor collapsed in his armchair and dropped his head into his hands. 

"I think I need a doctor," he groaned.

"I think you need your head examined," snapped Clara. 

 

Nothing came up as they visited Ancient Rome, hopped across to Meiji-era Japan, spat over the Cliffs of Dover and went to see Sirius the Dog Star up close and personal. The Doctor and Clara were strapping snowshoes to pay a visit to Kratos when Clara finally decided to address the Mary-Poppins-shaped elephant in the room.

"Doctor," she said, basically nothing but big brown eyes in eighteen layers of winter gear. "If Missy shows up, again, after we deal with her, I would like you to drop me home. I think I need a break."

"We haven't seen her in ages! And I haven't been thinking about her constantly at all, that would be ridiculous. You're being ridiculous." The Doctor said, nothing but a pair of eyebrows in his own eighteen layers of winter wear. Clara ignored what sounded like the Time Lord equivalent of, "Miss I didn't do the homework…Miss, I didn't know we _had_ homework."

"I just think I need a break from - Time Person-"

"Time Gentry, I think, could be a good collective noun."

"Time Gentry drama. And things. I can't see her again, Doctor, it just-"

"I would never deliberately take you somewhere that you'd have to face her. No one should have to deal with what you went through, and you're dealing with it marvellously considering." The Doctor strapped on his final snowshoe. "It's incredibly unlikely she'd be here though, Kratos is just ice and snow and marvellous scenery at this point in time. No strategic importance, nothing."

 

Missy was, of course, there, and had found the strategic importance of Kratos, which was its ice and snow. She was using it to power her affront-to-the-laws-of-physics ice-nuclear fusion machine to take on Kratos's sister planet, the lava-filled world of Tarak. 

"But why?" Clara shouted at her over the roar of the snow collectors and clang of pistons and machinery.

"Because I'm the Mistress! I'm pure motiveless EVIL!"

Later on, despite both looking like patchwork michelin men (Queens of Evil get cold too), the two Gallifreyans (Clara couldn't refer to them as Gentry in that state) ended up becoming gibbering morons in each others presence. Thankfully Clara was able to stabilise the Tarak-destroying machine and with the assistance of the local Kratosians, rolled the Mistress into jail, then a very unamused Doctor back to the TARDIS. 

"I _said_ I thought I needed a Doctor," he said, wedged between two large blocks as Clara activated the emergency "return Clara home" function. 

 

**Ne(v) - 4N-2D/2+var(k) - (Wright's equation for variation in reproductive success)**

 

Doctor Martha Jones was working back at UNIT as a physician and consultant, as well as being on the payroll as a Time Lord expert. She wasn't actually surprised to see the Doctor burst into her office while she was administering hydrocortisone to a Lieutenant. 

"The swelling will go down - OUT, who-Doctor, OUT! I'll see you next. The swelling will go down, but you need to get this cream from a pharmacy to clear up the rash. Off you pop."

Martha took the Doctor's pulses and respiration, his temperature and did a brief mental health check. He was doing better than his Ninth and Tenth selves, but that's still like saying the Simpson Desert is moist in comparison with the Sahara. Heh. Moist. 

"So the Master is back," he said, as she ran a stethoscope over his back.

"I know," said Martha.

"She's the Mistress now." 

"I know."

The Doctor watched Martha put away the stethoscope and retrieve a Geiger Counter. As she ran it over him, head to toe, he continued.

"How are you feeling about it? Is your family feeling okay?"

Martha examined the readings for a moment. "They're as to be expected, really," she said. "They don't know it was her behind the Cybermen. Oh God, she's not going to attack here, is she?"

"No! No. Actually-"

"How are you feeling about it?" Martha asked, stowing the Geiger Counter and leaning on her desk. "That's why you're really here, isn't it?"

"Well actually, I've got this rash-"

A look of horror crossed Martha's face, and he laughed. She grinned.

"Well, she kissed me." The grin became frozen in place.

"I read the UNIT report - D.R.W 2027. Saw the video footage too. Of the graveyard."

"Ah."

"Looked more like you kissing her."

"Well, there was more kissing - no, not on video, in St. Pauls. That was all her. I didn't like that bit very much." The Doctor averted his gaze. "There's a uh, first for everything."

"A first in front of humans, maybe." said Martha dryly. "I was with you on the Valiant when the Master died, Doctor. I may have been traumatised, but I wasn't rendered blind."

"Ah."

"Ahhhh," she said, holding up a tongue depressor. As the Doctor 'ahhhed,' she continued. "I tried to tell myself it was because you were the last two, and you couldn't bear being alone again, and while I was walking around the world I thought it was because you used to be such great friends. But you uh - yes. You can stop ahhing now. You weren't always the last two, and the Brig mentioned something about-"

"Ahh no," said the Doctor, reddening. "But last time, it was more okay, because it was a version of me that was all about the hugging and the kissing, and…kissing and hugging. Dancing. All about the dancing. Now I'm mostly not, except when the Mistress is around, and you're trying not to laugh. Stop laughing."

She was trying, and failing.

"Stop it - this is serious. I've nearly died three times and once I was in a kilt."

Ten minutes later, Martha was able to resume the conversation, though honestly she didn't want to.

"Do you need the birds and bees talk?" she asked.

The Doctor gave her the look of death. She held up her hands. 

"This isn't my field, I'm a doctor, Doctor, not a scientist or an anthropologist. I think, and I reckon this is what you've been thinking too, is that now one of you is female, it isn't just an urge to be near your old friend and…partner, coupled by the fact that you're the last of your kind. Now the Master is the Mistress, you're being driven to repopulate the species."

Silence in the hall. The Doctor's expression was priceless. And indescribable.

"Like, the subtextual drive you and the Master usually have is still all there, but now there's a biological ah, intrusion, an imperative, that you-"

"But there aren't enough of us to repopulate!" sputtered the Doctor. "Even if we each regenerated 13 times, as a full set, and swapped…roles…there wouldn't be enough genetic variation to sustain the species beyond a few generations! And that's assuming multiple successive pregnancies that beget healthy offspring and I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you-"

Martha shrugged. "Biology is an amazingly strong force. It's a really fascinating field."

"You," said the Doctor. "Sound like the bloody Rani. Oh thank God she didn't come back instead. Oh God." He paused for a moment, a look of horror on his face. "Biology may be a strong force, Martha Jones, but so is my indifference to it. You're laughing again."

Another ten minutes later, the conversation could resume. 

"Look, the Ma-the Mistress, seems slightly less psychotically evil this time around," said Martha. "Maybe you could figure out a deal to avoid each other and avoid these reactions until you can find a solution. They're endangering her just as much as you. If this drive to…repopulate makes you uncomfortable, and you think she could be made to care this time, you can maybe find a fix together."

  

**R*O > 1 (denoting the successful spread of an organism strain into a population) **

 

The theory held strong, and the Doctor and the Mistress made plans to meet in 1970s Germany to discuss it. It all went quite well until it didn't. They were both nearly shot for falling from the Berlin Wall, nearly killed when they fell in the Death Strip and it was all due to what a Western Guard later described as "voracious face eating," only in German. Banged up and bruised in adjoining police cells on the Western side, they tapped out an agreement in the Adalusiadian equivalent of Morse Code, which was like the Earth version but better for two reasons - one, no one on Earth knew it and so they couldn't be spied on, and two, Adalusiadian Morse Code is a hundred times more beautiful to listen to than Earth Morse, and is actually used in Adalusiadian poetry. Perhaps they should have stuck with Earth's Morse code. Their conversation, in its English equivalent and a literal translation of the Adalusiadian original, has been transcribed below.

D: Saw a doctor, theorised it was a biological imperative because of how we are now/O, old friend, visited a dear physician today, uncovered the theory that it was a natural and beautiful biological imperative we two share, as the last of our kind, two rare diamonds in the rough.

M: I assumed the same but we've been the last two before/Our minds are similar, O for I too reached a similar conclusion. However, have we not been the last two lights in the universe at other points in our complex and multi-faceted history?

D: You have gained reproductive capabilities I don't have/You now carry within your temple of flesh, the sainted orb that can bring forth life.

M: But we were always able to reproduce by mitosis. Not that it ever came to…Oh, increased genetic variability/O friend, were we not able to split ourselves in twain and begin our race anew? But such desperate measures in such times of loneliness. Ah but of course, the glimmering shining chances of life and variation are required.

D: Suggest remaining apart until solution is found./ Friend, O it pains me so but together we cannot be until we have found a solution to our pains.

M: Is it really an issue?/Problem, my friend? Why must you be so against our coupling?

D: This body, less interested than others. In both parties, consent is questionable. Also nearly killed us multiple times./My anaconda does not, and our anacondas should not as they cannot say whether they would not, or would assent, to bun-wanting. Also, O dear friend, we nearly died and I take issue with living without you in a universe that also lacks me.

"HALTEN DIE TAPPEN!" shouted a guard, which translates to "please refrain from tapping, it irritates me slightly."

After their daring and dangerous escape, the pair met in 2023, in a remote section of the DMZ between South Korea and North Korea, figuring if they couldn't control themselves around the most fortified border in the galaxy at that point, they probably deserved to be shot. 

"Consent is still an issue!" shouted the Doctor from the South. "This body runs closer to demiromantic and demisexual than it has in a very long time! I feel that this new biological drive makes me uncomfortable!"

"I'm hedging towards the common Gallifreyan orientation of demi-pan-romantic and demi-pan-sexual coupled with the odd sexual subtext we've always shared!" the Mistress bellowed from the North. "Though when translated into English terms they lose their complexity! To be honest, it's your consent I am more worried about! I've always been the more forward one in the relationship!"

"That doesn't mean you can always assume consent on your behalf! And your mental health issues could throw your ability to give informed consent in the first place!"

"As recently former sexual partners-"

"Maybe for you, Harold Saxon was about a thousand years ago for me! I got married like five times in the interim!"

"Really? Time flies when you're trapped in the hellish inferno loops of the Time War!"

"We should probably discuss Gallifrey when we get a chance!"

"Yes but, as former sexual partners-"

"Yes, later! But we should focus on the matter at hand!"

"That's what I was TRYING to say, as former sexual partners-"

"Shut the hell up, capitalist pigs!" came a new voice from the North. 

"You shut up, you commie bastards!" retorted someone in the South.

"AVOIDANCE FOR MY SANITY AND COMFORT?" bellowed the Doctor over the rumble of tanks.

"UNLESS THERE ARE EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES!" shrieked the Mistress over the roar of Soviet-era warplanes. "SHALL WE SHAKE ON IT?"

"PHYSICAL CONTACT IS NON-ADVISABLE! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO UNDERSTANDING!"

"I'M THE QUEEN OF EVIL DOCTOR, THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M AN INSENSITIVE DICK." there was the clatter of machine guns. "AT LEAST NOT TO YOU."

 

**"Major schools of thought in international relations fail to account for the influence of Gallifreyans in the outbreak of war between the Koreas in 2023, and so the outbreak has never been fully understood." - The Big Book of International Studies Lectures and Politically Correct Jokes About Inter-Asian Conflicts of the 21st Century, Introduction by Kate Stewart, p. XVI.**

 

Avoidance, and subsequently, abstinence, was successful for the next 2701 days (by the Doctor's personal timeline), with a few minor incidences. 

**The Journal of Minor Incidences, edited for brevity, brief excerpts.**

  _Day 314:_ Attempted intercourse against the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg - apparently there was no skin-on-skin contact. Avoidance closure achieved when both parties threw out their backs simultaneously. Poor showing all round, really. Clara very unamused.

 _Day 776:_ City of Bervorses's floating roller-skating rink. Avoidance closure fulfilled by small red cactus alien skating between them at a key moment. Clara unamused.

 _Day 1590_ : Shrunk down to tiny size on planet Essarossa, met while traversing through the highly symbolic petals of a rose. Avoidance closure achieved by Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods, by trapping the Mistress in a bottle and flinging her into a river. Clara slightly unamused. 

 _Day 2652:_ Landed on Mars, 2020ish. Surprised by appearance of alien who resembled Harvey Keitel from the 1970s, who proceeded to trap the Doctor and Mistress in a dark and rapidly cooling cave. Avoidance closure fulfilled by fellow Mars being, resembling 1970s-era Phillip Glenister, whose territorial displays were both dazzling and distracting, allowing the Doctor and Mistress (the latter, reluctantly) to be rescued by Clara, Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods and Martha Jones, who'd tagged along and been promised a David Bowie concert.

 _Day 2653:_ Mars, 2020ish. All parties had the same idea and went back the next day to capture footage of the Mars terrestrials. Ended with the Mistress, an irritated Courtney and a very unamused Martha all trapped in the same cave. Rescued by Clara and the Doctor riding in on a repurposed _Spirit_. Avoidance closure fulfilled by NASA, who slapped everyone involved with a giant lawsuit that would kill anyone's libido.

 

**"Wouldn't it be better if it were four men and they got sixteen women apiece? COME AT ME LADIES! It's also about ethics in game journalism." - some other guy on the internet.**

 

Day 2702 was when their otherwise solid plan of running away from their problems came to a head. Of course it was in London. Of course it was the 21st century. Of course there were camera phones everywhere. The following year, the Mistress released a virus set to destroy the internet, and completely coincidentally the Doctor was unable to stop it until all evidence of their lapse in avoidance was erased. 

It was snowing. It was Christmas Eve, technically, but it's not really Christmas Eve unless you've had to wait through Bonfire night and the end of school and the arrival of the relatives and the office party and decorating and shopping and it means Christmas will be (9 times out of 10) the next DAY. It was however, shaping up to be one of those 1 times out of 10 deals. Trafalgar Square. Buckingham Palace. The Houses of Parliament. All were inundated with invaders. UNIT was on site. The UN's Blue Berets had deigned to assist. Some rebooted version of Torchwood was present. Martha and Mickey Smith-Jones showed up, still wearing paper crowns from their bonbons. 

It was a good showing, and all for an invasion of the bloody Grumblies. Five foot tall, four foot in circumference, fuzzy, pine-scented aliens with multiple gold glittery eyes and five red randomly placed beaks. One can imagine why they chose Christmas of all times to invade. Thankfully, Grumblies also explode on contact with antacid. Less thankfully, the resultant minty-pine gunk that flies through the air is toxic to Time Lords and Ladies alike. The Doctor stood behind the UNIT lines in a full-body hazmat suit, arms folded and feeling mildly ill as the Grumblies were hosed down. He didn't notice another hazmat-suited figure sidle up beside him, until the Mistress bumped into his shoulder playfully.

"Merry Christmas," she said, watching the aliens get hosed down the drain with a similar look of distaste. 

"You're not behind this, are you?" he asked. "It's a bit bodily-fluids focussed to be a you sort of plan."

"I once resurrected myself with the DNA remnants of a kiss, Doctor-"

"Fine, the alien selection seems a bit twee. I mean the Autons are scary in the right light, but these things are just ridiculous. Have you been to their planet? Smells like cinnamon all year round. Awful."

"I didn't plan, I merely suggested."

"Really."

"And no one's died."

"You can imagine why I have trouble believing that."

"No," said the Mistress. "I made sure of it. Think of it as a Christmas present."

The Doctor turned to gape at her through his helmet. She turned and smiled up at him. "Merry Christmas," she began, then realised her mistake. "Ah, shi-"

And they didn't even have the excuse of mistletoe.

I don't know if you've ever tried kissing someone while wearing an anti-biological microbe, fluid-repelling Hazmat suit with inch-thick rubber all over the body and a two-inch thick see-through perspex visor, but you can imagine it's exponentially more difficult when the other person involved is also wearing the same version of the suit. 

This didn't stop the Doctor and the Mistress trying though, and the force at which they went to (to paraphrase our German guard friend from earlier) to voraciously eat each other's faces was impressive and only hindered by the four inches (total) of perspex between them, which was being worn away fast. Friction, like biology, is an amazingly strong force. Somehow, the pair managed to stay upright, mostly through the 'unstoppable force hitting an unmovable object' effect often seen in extra-terrestrial mating urges. It was however, the Mistress who managed to tip the scales and sent the Doctor - closely followed by herself - slamming backwards into a UNIT van, denting the side. Tugging off their helmets in the brief break, despite the Grumbly threat, the Mistress advanced on the Doctor and yet more ferocious, unhinged kissing ensued. 

Around this point - well actually, the loud BANG that had come from the Doctor hitting the van - that many UNIT personnel had been alerted to the aliens behind their lines. Some who had dealt with their allotment of Grumblies pulled out their camera phones. One who was less concerned with internet fame called a very amused (but trying not to be) Kate Stewart, who was in the process of kicking Grumblies off the roof of Buckingham Palace. She rerouted the officers call through to Martha Jones, whose expression was almost enough to stop the two Gallifreyan-biology-driven libidos in their tracks.

Almost.

"Where's Clara?" she asked.

The Mistress moved down the Doctor's neck, leaving his mouth unoccupied and his face very red. "She's with that grandmother of hers who only shows up when she needs to talk to someone who isn't me or Danny," he panted.

"So she's not here, then?"

"Does she look like she's here?" the Mistress snapped, whirling around, then quickly turning back to her prior business.

"All good," said Martha, grabbing her radio and letting the Time Gentry get back to their highly ungentrilike activity. "Hit them, boys," she said into the speaker.

The jet from a firehose was eventually enough to separate the pair long enough for them to skedaddle, dripping wet, back to their TARDISes.

"God, they're like stray cats," said Mickey, wandering up to his wife. "Though to be honest, gave me a few ideas."

 

**"Why do women run from me?" - that same guy from earlier.**

 

If day 2702 was the battle for France, and the Doctor and the Mistress's sense of control is France in this analogy, and Hitler is the intrusion of biological urgency, but unlike France they're weren't actually captured by the Nazis but they came really close to it, then day 2703 is like the Battle of Britain. In this case, the Doctor and the Mistress were London, and Coventry and Birmingham and other key industrial areas targeted by the Germans, and their libidos were again Hitler, but this time Hitler didn't try to take the Soviet Union and so won the Battle of Britain and destroyed both the Twelfth Doctor's virginity and the Doctor and the Mistress's social standings (though, to be honest, this mostly affects the Doctor as the Mistress is on no one's good books. Amazing how destroying a generous portion of the universe knocks you down a few pegs). 

 

Day 2703 went like this. 

There was no build up, or accidental path-crossing and plan-thwarting or nefarious plot of the week. There was a furious bashing at the door of the TARDIS where the Doctor had parked it near Coal Hill, but when he opened it, expecting a ticked-off Clara, he got the Mistress.

"Can we PLEASE just have sex and get this over and done with?" she asked, pupils blown and as Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods had put it, 'knees weak arms spaghetti.'

"Ahhh-" said the Doctor. "Is this what they call a booty call?"

Clara chose that moment to appear behind the Mistress and overhear the conversation.

"You-both-need-Jesus!" she managed to choke out, and irritated rather than enraged and grieving for the first time in months, stomped off to go drink with the other English teachers and make some friends her own age. "GO TO CHURCH!" she shouted over her shoulder, to the shock and later conversion of one of her students. 

"I don't know if you can currently give informed consent," the Doctor said, resolutely looking above the Mistress's head, but swallowing hard. "Like, I would definitely consent, but you look a bit-"

The Mistress grabbed the Doctor around the neck and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Tongues got involved, and for a few minutes the Doctor stood there, dazed, and enjoying himself immensely until he remembered they were parked outside a school. Still kissing, he grabbed Missy around the waist and pulled her inside, kicking the doors shut behind them. Halfway through manoeuvring themselves towards the console, the Doctor again lost his head and got lost in the feel of Missy pressed against him, her warm soft lips, her roving hands, his coat and cardigan that had somehow vanished-

"Outer space please," mumbled the Mistress. 

"Mmpf," replied the Doctor, but neither of them moved.

There was still a whole staircase up to the console to ascend, and so the Doctor grabbed the Mistress's upper thighs and heaved her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moved them up the stairs to the TARDIS console. It took a team effort of hands fumbling blindly at the console (and elsewhere) to get the TARDIS into the vortex. Missy broke away from the Doctor, leaving them both gasping. The Doctor pressed his forehead against Missy's, and she smiled wickedly at him. He leant down to run his lips over the shell of her ear, and then across her neck. His hands seized at her waist.

"Finally!" she said, and they sank to the floor and out of sight.

 

**You thought there'd be a sex scene here, didn't you? Of all the depravity - this is a serious scientific inquiry into the reproductive habits of sentient endangered species. Typical sex-obsessed 21st Century citizens.**

 

An impressive chunk of hours later, the Doctor and the Mistress lay on the floor outside the Doctor's bedroom, amazed they'd made it that far. They were sticky, sweaty and completely stark naked, despite the Doctor's best efforts to keep Missy in her very interesting stockings and garter set. Missy rolled over to face the Doctor, the threat of eye contact abated after their latest activities. 

"Worth the wait," she said, flopping back and staring at the ceiling. "That thing with the-" she made a vague hand gesture, "-and the thing you did with your tongue, that was - yeah. Well done."

"How's your hip doing, after that?"

"Completely worth the dislocation."

"Good, good. Thank you."

Missy propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him properly. He turned his head to focus on her, still looking vaguely shell-shocked. 

"I forgot that it smells," he said, with a strange, disturbed expression. "And I really think we're stuck to this floor."

"Well as long as you don't fall asleep in ten seconds like your first body-"

The Doctor made a fake snoring noise, and Missy smacked him on the arm. Her hand came away slightly tacky. 

"That thing that you did, with the-" it was the Doctor's turn to make a gesture, but he had to use two hands. "That was really inspired, actually."

"You know, I learnt that on Vikkigammora."

"The planet with all the tentacles? Remind me to send them a thank-you card. Or a dozen, that would be more appropriate." The Doctor finally turned to look at Missy and took in her messy updo, smeared makeup and multiple love-bites. Slowly, he shuffled over - still slightly stuck to the floor - and rested his head on her shoulder, throwing an arm over her chest. He sighed.

"So," she said, into his hair. "What do we do now?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, the biological impulse is gone for now, and this was a best case scenario. I'm amazed we didn't destroy Belgium trying to fly the TARDIS blind like that. Then again, I wouldn't have minded destroying Belgium. I doubt the drive to procreate is gone forever. We're not cicadas."

"Ah, well," said the Doctor. "We could remove our reproductive organs."

"We don't have any reproductive organs, Doctor. We're Time Gentry. _Looms."_

"I probably should have mentioned that to Martha," said the Doctor. "And the bit about the mitosis."

"I cannot believe you went to Martha Jones for the sex talk."

"I didn't need a sex talk!"

"Well, I believe you after that bit with the ankles. But looms."

"You know, I always forget about those," said the Doctor, idly tracing a pattern with his fingertips on her stomach.

"I don't think the avoidance and bottling up urges methodology is a good long-term plan. I mean, we're not normal Time Gentry, and we're not American educators from the South. Why can't it be like the old days when we'd cross paths, you'd thwart me and then we'd meet up later and I'd give you a good thwarting in return? And then tea and biscuits."

"Because," and here the Doctor stopped tracing. "Because I have friends with me who have been horrifically hurt by you, and I'm not running off to have a quickie behind the astrophysics lab while they're around, or aware. Biological imperative or not."

"Ahh, Gallifrey," said the Mistress. "And I guess there is your demisexuality to think about."

"You know that compass needle is pointed pretty squarely at you, and that thing you did with your teeth while we were trying to get back down the stairs."

"I'm flattered."

"We could have a roster," said the Doctor, sitting up with a disturbing unsticking sound. "I think I just lost some more of the skin on my back."

"A sex roster? A sex roster."

"A sex roster, yes, that's what I meant."

"Can we show up for appointments twice?"

"How about, only on anniversaries."

"You're not thinking of bringing River, are you?"

The Doctor looked back at her. "No, why?"

She shrugged. "It's just a thought. Though you've got kind of a weird, Papa-Nicole thing going on there, with how you knew her as a baby and watched her grow up."

"Yeah, to be honest, that's why I avoided her after that otters incident," he said. "That and she's dead. I think. I was never actually one hundred percent clear on that."

"Sex roster. Right," said Missy. "Sounds like a plan. For now, let's go have a shower."

"Are we going to have sex in the shower?"

"If you like."

The Doctor helped Missy up, and the two of them set off down the corridor. Missy began to giggle.

"What-what is it?" 

"You know," said the Mistress. "You don't realize how ridiculous penises look until you don't have one."

 

 

**THE END.**

 

 


	2. Minimum Viable Population (DVD Commentary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The DVD-commentary/annotations that no one asked for but are receiving anyway, kind of like the Twelfth Doctor and kisses from Missy in Dark Water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been working on a sequel to this fic's sequel for quite a while, and I got bored but wanted to stay in this universe. So I've gone over Minimum Viable Population and done a quick annotation-DVD commentary kind of thing, explaining some of the jokes and what counts as a 'process' for me, which isn't much. However, you will learn some things about Korea and get a recommendation for a documentary on the Berlin Wall, so. Here we go!

_I want to point out before I even start annotating this, that 80% of this fic was handwritten on loose-leaf paper and it was so much fun to write I just kept adding scenes up until I basically posted it. Typing it up on the other hand, was a massive bitch._

There is an unfortunate, unwelcome intrusion into what becomes their usual routine of 'accidentally meet, Doctor overthrows the Mistress' plan, later on they go out for tea and biscuits.' That intrusion is biology, and it's been intruding since they were children, in a manner of speaking - Theta liked astrophysics, Koschei liked mechanical physics and engineering and Ushas always came top of any of the biology classes so what was the point, really?  _I like that this sort of starts as if there's been a conversation going on about their relationship in the post-Gallifrey universe, and then it turns to the Unfortunate Intrusion of Biology. Most of the D/M fanfiction I read during the last time I was a big fanfic reader (sort of 2008-2011, so the Simm!Master years) had a lot of flashbacks or were set during the Doctor and Master’s time at the Academy and usually also featured Ushas (the Rani) which is probably why I put this reference to her here._

**'Minimum Viable Population' - the estimated population size to ensure between 90-95% probability of survival between 100-1000 years into the future.** _So all these statistics/concepts were actually researched, so this is the actual definition of Minimum Viable Population._

This Doctor - Twelve, this one, how time flies - is older, and wiser, and calmer than he's been in a few bodies, and decidedly less athletic and flexible. This is all extremely obvious in comparison to his Tenth body. This Doctor doesn't kiss with fire, desperation and urgency, but more with reverence and remembrance, gently, softly, and caring. For the first time in a very long time, they're actually acting like an old married couple. _This kind of ended up being correct re their behaviour in The Magician’s Apprentice depending on how you read their actions their imo. I never actually sorted out in my head, here, if they were married at all. That does get covered in the sequel though._ Missy would complain about it, but she's in the same boat age-wise and eventually after they both throw out their backs attempting to screw up against the wall of Petrograd's Winter Palace in 1916 - long story - well, tea, biscuits and hand holding on the banks of some river seem a more tempting and sensible option. _And you never actually see how this actually happens, I probably originally planned to have that scene, but some things are funnier happening ‘off screen’._ Not that they've never thrown out their backs before, but usually it was a more difficult position, and well her hip isn't the way it used to be.

 

**Ne (v) = p(1-p)/2var^p (Wright's equation for effective population size).**

 

  _Hypothesis: Writing about sex is dull, writing about the politics around sex are not. As my friend said, judging me for writing fanfiction in the first place, the lead-up to the deed is usually the most interesting bit for her, both the conversations and tension, and the foreplay. That idea ended up driving this fanfiction, because if the Doctor and Missy have sex, game over, fanfic’s done._

Gallifreyan sexualities, genders and sex drives fluctuate over lives and over bodies, and eventually they both figure out if Gallifrey still was, rather than no longer is, the Twelfth Doctor would have remained as he had been upon regeneration and the pre-Mistress days. That is, in answer to the aforementioned three characteristics, 'mostly none,' 'mostly male,' and 'no thanks,' respectively. But Gallifrey is (for now) no more, and though she too would be happy to remain 'mostly none,' 'mostly female, these days,' and 'occasionally, but be mindful of my trick hip,' well biology intrudes. It makes things difficult. 

 They didn't notice it the first few times they crossed paths, for a variety of reasons.

  1. Location: Graveyard, England, Earth, Day of Cyberman invasion #1473 (The St. Paul's Incursion, see UNIT file D.R.W 2027 for further details) _UNIT file DRW – Doctor Who. Obviously._



Reason for lack of biological reaction:

Kind of busy at the time (Mistress), Typical levels of attraction that I have learnt to ignore, unless it suits my nefarious plans (Mistress), as far as I knew, she was trying to destroy the planet or something, I was distracted (Doctor).

     2. Location: TARDIS, former locale of Gallifrey

Reason for lack of biological reaction: 

Distracted by equal communication and conversation with other final member of my race in millennia/centuries (Doctor/Mistress), was pissed off she lied about Gallifrey (Doctor), for me the attraction was there but he was being all soppy and that's a real turnoff (Mistress), emotional baggage was distracting, didn't notice the sweaty palms and shaky knees until later (Doctor). _So this was a weird thing that it ties in with another fic that I wrote (The Best Parts of Knowing). However, it wasn’t meant to be a reference to that fanfiction and I don’t mean for it to be read like that. In my head I felt the Doctor and Missy must have met in that interim period, considering it was quite clear the Doctor knew/hoped Missy lived, and this was only made more obvious after the Magician’s Apprentice._

  1. Location: Grand Canyon, United States of America, Earth, 1876 AD



Reason for lack of biological reaction:

He knows damn well why (Mistress), was diverted by appearance of donkey (Doctor).  _Have you heard the[joke](http://www.ahajokes.com/mar027.html) about the secret of a long and happy marriage? In the one I heard, they’re riding donkeys, not horses._

  1. Location: Kaythixbey, Ixikbraithix X4352st.B



Distracted by lethal flesh-eating gas (Doctor/Mistress), still had donkey in tow (Mistress), is now willing to admit that yes the donkey was an issue (Doctor). _The Tenth Doctor wanted a horse, I feel like the Twelfth has more of a donkey attitude tbh._

  1. Location: Brisbane, Australia, Earth, 2014 AD



Arrived, felt presence of Australian national leader and was unable to focus on anything else due to disgust (Doctor), was in communication with alien wearing the form of the Russian national leader and had other things to do (Mistress), way too hot to consider doing anything else (Doctor/Mistress). _I always did this in my earlier fanfics and honestly I regret putting this in, because it’s a very dated joke now. It was about the Brisbane G20 summit when Tony Abbott was still prime minister of Australia._

  On a conscious level, they were happy to live, biologically non-intrusively, but on an unconscious level, things began to change. It truly started when the Doctor, with Clara and Courtney in tow, ran into the Mistress in the Scottish highlands in the mid-1700s. _I’m not sure, but I’m suspecting this was an Outlander reference._ They were all a bit surprised and annoyed, especially Clara, who managed to end the meeting by nailing the Mistress in the head with a handy set of bagpipes. _‘Nailing’ is a word/concept I find inherently funny. It also can be used as a euphemism for sex._ The conversation was as follows:

 

M: "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

D: "Nor I - you, what are you, you what are you doing here?"

M: "Why are you wearing a kilt?" _I will see Peter Capaldi’s Doctor in a kilt before he leaves, God willing._

D: "Well, everyone else was, so I-"

M: "You have lovely knees."

D: "Oh why I - thank you!"

 

Later, witness to the scene, Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods, invoked early 21st Century prose to describe their physical reactions to each other, as transcribed below.

CW: "It was like, they looked at each other in the eyes, and phwoom! Like no one else in the room existed, you know? And they they got real awkward talking to each other, kind of knees weak arms spaghetti you know? _Ripped that off tumblr._ And that was when Miss got her in the head with the bagpipes, that was well wicked." _And the reason it’s ripped off tumblr is because we know Courtney has tumblr._

 

**"It's not until 32 people, so 16 couples, that a sustainable human population, assuming multiple successful pregnancies, can form. You'd want more to be sure, and can we have frozen embryos, sperm and eggs in this scenario? Anyway, it's all theoretical, and assumes so many other factors, like environment and food supplies, are stable and predictable." - some guy on the internet.** _This is actually a paraphrase of a genuine reddit discussion on how many people you’d need to populate a settler colony or something on another planet. I love the internet._

 

They met on Spirix, a planet originally founded by Sprite, via the Coca Cola company, given a sci-fiesque "-ix" suffix after a war with the people of Mezzo Mix _Mezzo Mix is a German softdrink it’s amazing_ required a name change. The people of Rasperra Fernta _Raspberry Fanta_ , a small town upon the planet, wanted revolution. The Doctor and Clara had spent three days trying to convince them that revolutions usually didn't end well ("Look at the legend of the city of Pepsa!" "I don't know what that is, but have you seen Les Mis?"), only to be interrupted by the arrival of Missy. Missy brought with her weapons, armaments, blueprints to the Houses of Parliaments and a rather different set of ideas regarding revolution.  _I think Missy is more of a traditionalist regarding revolution – that is, uses the violence and power vacuum for her own ends. The Doctor wouldn’t be a romantic about revolutions either, but he’s not that ruthless._

As such things are wont to do, it ended up in a public debate in the Town Hall. Clara, English teacher and angry glarer extraordinaire, was assigned to adjudicate. The first speakers were the young, blonde, intelligent, impressionable and idealised youth (in the for side), and the town judge (in the against). The second speakers were a clean-cut, wealthier looking boy who kept gazing at some blonde in the third row (in the for side) and one of the women who ran a store selling fruit (against) _So these were meant to be Les Mis character references_. Finally, it was the Mistress against the Doctor (in the debate. They weren't physically against each other. Yet). 

"On the against side, the Doctor, and for the for side, this b- the Mistress," said Clara, to strained and scattered applause.

The Doctor and Missy took to the stage and stood behind their respective podiums. The Doctor spoke first, and the Mistress was in the middle of her first argument when they both made a grievous error. After somehow avoiding it since the Mistress had turned up, the pair of them looked at each other at the exact same moment and locked eyes for the first time since the Highlands. Missy faltered mid-speech. The Doctor was supremely glad his lower half was concealed behind the podium. _I actually have a weird amount of affection for the idea that Missy would just be so uncaring about accidental boners, because she knows how sometimes dicks just act like dicks, because she has in the past, had them. That’s not really relevant here. Why am I still talking._ After a few minutes of staring and silence, the townspeople begin to grow jittery. Then rowdy. Then, despite Clara's valiant efforts to restore order, the non-revolutionaries joined with the revolutionaries, unified with the joint effort of running the Doctor, Clara and Missy out of town. _[cue banjo music] Really though, by unifying the town, they did manage to solve the problem of revolution; we just don’t know if they decided on for or against._

Clara basically dragged the Doctor into the TARDIS, as he and Missy locked eyes again while running for their lives. The Time Gentry ended up frozen on the doors of their respective TARDISes, gaping longingly at each other until Clara bodily shoved the Doctor inside the time machine. _Like picture little Jenna physically tackling Peter Capaldi into the TARDIS it’s fantastic._

She was so not amused. _Ha, now Jenna’s going to play Queen Victoria._ Once they were safely in the vortex, far from the planet of the soft-drink and the Mistress, the Doctor collapsed in his armchair and dropped his head into his hands.  _Considering how much the Armchair features in Twissyfic, I’m amazed I don’t think I’ve ever used it in one of my fics for actual sex. Love that armchair._

"I think I need a doctor," he groaned. _The idea of the Doctor needing a doctor is a joke that never gets old._

"I think you need your head examined," snapped Clara. 

  _Probably should have been a paragraph-break here. Oh well._

Nothing came up as they visited Ancient Rome, hopped across to Meiji-era Japan, spat over the Cliffs of Dover and went to see Sirius the Dog Star up close and personal. The Doctor and Clara were strapping snowshoes to pay a visit to Kratos when Clara finally decided to address the Mary-Poppins-shaped elephant in the room. _Is this why they changed Missy’s look more for her second appearance? Cause she was so much more Mary Poppins in season 8._

"Doctor," she said, basically nothing but big brown eyes in eighteen layers of winter gear. "If Missy shows up, again, after we deal with her, I would like you to drop me home. I think I need a break."

"We haven't seen her in ages! And I haven't been thinking about her constantly at all, that would be ridiculous. You're being ridiculous." The Doctor said, nothing but a pair of eyebrows in his own eighteen layers of winter wear. Clara ignored what sounded like the Time Lord equivalent of, "Miss I didn't do the homework…Miss, I didn't know we had homework."

"I just think I need a break from - Time Person-"

"Time Gentry, I think, could be a good collective noun." _And so begins the constant questioning of pronoun and collective noun usage that dogs me to this day. Hey, at least I know that ‘they’ is a grammatically-correct singular pronoun. I don’t even keep the delineation between Gallifreyan and Time Lord straight in this fic._

"Time Gentry drama. And things. I can't see her again, Doctor, it just-" _I don’t know if I really had this come across in this fic but this is why I actually cannot, cannot ship Clara/Missy even as a hateship; Missy literally tortured and killed Clara’s boyfriend in front of her. There’s no undercurrent of sexual tension in their relationship to me, Missy is a monster to all of humanity and to Clara. Missy has no fondness for humanity, they are minor diversions at best and cockroaches at worst._

"I would never deliberately take you somewhere that you'd have to face her. No one should have to deal with what you went through, and you're dealing with it marvelously considering." _She has to deal with it marvelously or there wouldn’t really be a fanfic, as Clara is reason #1 why the Doctor and Missy aren’t just shagging right now._ The Doctor strapped on his final snowshoe. "It's incredibly unlikely she'd be here though, Kratos is just ice and snow and marvellous scenery at this point in time. No strategic importance, nothing."

 

Missy was, of course, there, and had found the strategic importance of Kratos, which was its ice and snow. She was using it to power her affront-to-the-laws-of-physics ice-nuclear fusion machine to take on Kratos's sister planet, the lava-filled world of Tarak.  _I know nothing about science but neither do the writers of Doctor Who, so._

"But why?" Clara shouted at her over the roar of the snow collectors and clang of pistons and machinery.

"Because I'm the Mistress! I'm pure motiveless EVIL!" _This is actually a line from SkyOne’s Yonderland and their villain Negatus; in this fic I had little interest in the Master’s actual schemes and more about their relationship with the Doctor._

Later on, despite both looking like patchwork michelin men (Queens of Evil get cold too), the two Gallifreyans (Clara couldn't refer to them as Gentry in that state) ended up becoming gibbering morons in each others presence. Thankfully Clara was able to stabilise the Tarak-destroying machine and with the assistance of the local Kratosians, rolled the Mistress into jail, then a very unamused Doctor back to the TARDIS. 

"I said I thought I needed a Doctor," he said, wedged between two large blocks as Clara activated the emergency "return Clara home" function. 

 

**Ne(v) - 4N-2D/2+var(k) - (Wright's equation for variation in reproductive success)**

 

Doctor Martha Jones was working back at UNIT as a physician and consultant, as well as being on the payroll as a Time Lord expert. She wasn't actually surprised to see the Doctor burst into her office while she was administering hydrocortisone to a Lieutenant. 

"The swelling will go down - OUT, who-Doctor, OUT! I'll see you next. The swelling will go down, but you need to get this cream from a pharmacy to clear up the rash. Off you pop." _I don’t know if this comes across, because it was going to be more in the sequel but the idea is here. Basically apparently in the 1970s/80s at the BBC apparently everyone was just shagging everywhere backstage. UNITs origins are in this period, so it makes sense that everyone at UNIT is shagging (and Torchwood has to get their bad habits from somewhere). So the joke is half of Martha’s patients have STIs or weird sex injuries, hence the rash._

Martha took the Doctor's pulses and respiration, his temperature and did a brief mental health check. He was doing better than his Ninth and Tenth selves, but that's still like saying the Simpson Desert is moist in comparison with the Sahara. Heh. Moist.  _I mean, are there any other doctors the Doctor could see?_

"So the Master is back," he said, as she ran a stethoscope over his back. _Hell of an opening line, bro._

"I know," said Martha.

"She's the Mistress now." 

"I know."

The Doctor watched Martha put away the stethoscope and retrieve a Geiger Counter. _Me, sitting at a desk: What the fuck else kind of check would Martha need to do on the Doctor?_ As she ran it over him, head to toe, he continued.

"How are you feeling about it? Is your family feeling okay?"

Martha examined the readings for a moment. "They're as to be expected, really," she said. "They don't know it was her behind the Cybermen. Oh God, she's not going to attack here, is she?" _I really was waiting for a Martha reference whenever Missy was around, especially with Clara. I’m still waiting for a Martha reference._

"No! No. Actually-"

"How are you feeling about it?" Martha asked, stowing the Geiger Counter and leaning on her desk. "That's why you're really here, isn't it?"

"Well actually, I've got this rash-"

A look of horror crossed Martha's face, and he laughed. She grinned. _TIME LORD STIs CAN YOU IMAGINE_

"Well, she kissed me." The grin became frozen in place.

"I read the UNIT report - D.R.W 2027. Saw the video footage too. Of the graveyard."

"Ah."

"Looked more like you kissing her." _Reminder, because it’s glorious: As of March 2016, the only person Peter Capaldi’s Doctor has kissed has been the Mistress. TWICE._

"Well, there was more kissing - no, not on video, in St. Pauls. That was all her. I didn't like that bit very much." The Doctor averted his gaze. _Like, he really didn’t_. "There's a uh, first for everything." _I could go into a really long talk here, but there’s a lot to this line and that first kiss imo because – back when John Simm was the Master, it seemed like a lot of the fanfic regarding Simm’s Master and 10 was very – nonconsensual, violent, rapey. Some of it was in-character considering how psychotic and domineering and traumatized Simm’s Master was, but in others it was about porn. Now I’m all for people writing what they want [writes another 12000 words about people being compelled to shag] but it was a seemingly quite large subgroup in the fandom. And everyone decided that 10 was always always always a sub and the Master was always a dom, which is just….too easy imo. Anyway. Cut to now, where I was concerned that we’d see a… weakening of Missy’s character because she is now female (??) – as in, the Doctor and Mistress would start fitting more cliché, heterosexual tropes – but that hasn’t really occurred. Honestly I think there’s more complexity in her character now they’ve moved away from COMPLETE PSYCHOTIC SIMM. Missy is still undeniably mad and traumatized, but she’s more of an old-school Master and has inhibitions on her behaviour and actions; she just chooses not to engage with them._

"A first in front of humans, maybe." said Martha dryly. "I was with you on the Valiant when the Master died, Doctor. I may have been traumatised, but I wasn't rendered blind."

"Ah."

"Ahhhh," she said, holding up a tongue depressor. As the Doctor 'ahhhed,' she continued. "I tried to tell myself it was because you were the last two, and you couldn't bear being alone again, and while I was walking around the world I thought it was because you used to be such great friends. But you uh - yes. You can stop ahhing now. You weren't always the last two, and the Brig mentioned something about-" _Everyone knew the Doctor and Master were shagging in the 1970s. Everyone._

"Ahh no," said the Doctor, reddening. "But last time, it was more okay, because it was a version of me that was all about the hugging and the kissing, and…kissing and hugging. Dancing. All about the dancing. Now I'm mostly not, except when the Mistress is around, and you're trying not to laugh. Stop laughing." _Again,_ _I personally believe Twelve is at most asexual and at least demisexual. I understand why this might not come across in some of my fanfics._

She was trying, and failing.

"Stop it - this is serious. I've nearly died three times and once I was in a kilt."

Ten minutes later, Martha was able to resume the conversation, though honestly she didn't want to. _Poor Martha goes through so much shit._

"Do you need the birds and bees talk?" she asked. _Martha is actually funnier than people give her credit for, it kind of got buried under her being in love with Ten._

The Doctor gave her the look of death. She held up her hands. 

"This isn't my field, I'm a doctor, Doctor, not a scientist or an anthropologist. _Dammit Doctor, I’m a doctor, not a…_ I think, and I reckon this is what you've been thinking too, is that now one of you is female, it isn't just an urge to be near your old friend and…partner, coupled by the fact that you're the last of your kind. Now the Master is the Mistress, you're being driven to repopulate the species."

Silence in the hall. The Doctor's expression was priceless. And indescribable. _So I didn’t describe it. That’s the joke._

"Like, the subtextual drive you and the Master usually have is still all there, but now there's a biological ah, intrusion, an imperative, that you-"

"But there aren't enough of us to repopulate!" sputtered the Doctor. "Even if we each regenerated 13 times, as a full set, and swapped…roles…there wouldn't be enough genetic variation to sustain the species beyond a few generations! And that's assuming multiple successive pregnancies that beget healthy offspring and I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you-" _I did the maths, it actually doesn’t work. Also I kind of want to draw attention to saying ‘successive pregnancies,’ because to me it’s always been quite important to acknowledge that often pregnancies aren’t successful. It’s a personal issue._

Martha shrugged. "Biology is an amazingly strong force. It's a really fascinating field."

"You," said the Doctor. "Sound like the bloody Rani. _Ushas; ties it back to the beginning of the fic._ Oh thank God she didn't come back instead. Oh God." _I have a friend who was So Sure Missy had to actually be the Rani and that Moffat was trying to double-bluff people. Suck it Sam, I was fucking right._ He paused for a moment, a look of horror on his face. "Biology may be a strong force, Martha Jones, but so is my indifference to it. You're laughing again."

Another ten minutes later, the conversation could resume. 

"Look, the Ma-the Mistress, seems slightly less psychotically evil this time around," said Martha. "Maybe you could figure out a deal to avoid each other and avoid these reactions until you can find a solution. They're endangering her just as much as you. If this drive to…repopulate makes you uncomfortable, and you think she could be made to care this time, you can maybe find a fix together." _As the AV Club said, one of the best things Moffat has done with Missy is that he’s brought back the Master/Mistress to a point where she is a threat to the Doctor, and amusing and a great character, but not so much of an apocalyptic threat ala the RTD era that she has to be killed off every time she appears. She might look dead, but we know she’s coming back and they won’t even try to hide it._

  

**R*O > 1 (denoting the successful spread of an organism strain into a population) **

 

  _Okay I think I’ve mentioned this in a comment reply, but I have a degree in history and international studies, which is why I usually set my Doctor Who fics on Earth in historical locations, and why they hang out in the two most famous divided states in history here, Germany and the Koreas. Donate to[Liberty in North Korea](http://www.libertyinnorthkorea.org/) here. _

The theory held strong, and the Doctor and the Mistress made plans to meet in 1970s Germany to discuss it. It all went quite well until it didn't. _It goes unsaid but the Doctor would be on the Western side, and Missy would be on the East._ They were both nearly shot for falling from the Berlin Wall, nearly killed when they fell in the Death Strip and it was all due to what a Western Guard later described as "voracious face eating," only in German. _There’s a great doco on Australian netflix called Busting the Berlin Wall if anyone’s interested in the wall, it’s fascinating._ Banged up and bruised in adjoining police cells on the Western side, they tapped out an agreement in the Adalusiadian equivalent of Morse Code, which was like the Earth version but better for two reasons - one, no one on Earth knew it and so they couldn't be spied on, and two, Adalusiadian Morse Code is a hundred times more beautiful to listen to than Earth Morse, and is actually used in Adalusiadian poetry. Perhaps they should have stuck with Earth's Morse code. Their conversation, in its English equivalent and a literal translation of the Adalusiadian original, has been transcribed below. _I think this is my favourite bit of the whole fanfic to be honest:_

D: Saw a doctor, theorised it was a biological imperative because of how we are now/O, old friend, visited a dear physician today, uncovered the theory that it was a natural and beautiful biological imperative we two share, as the last of our kind, two rare diamonds in the rough.

M: I assumed the same but we've been the last two before/Our minds are similar, O for I too reached a similar conclusion. However, have we not been the last two lights in the universe at other points in our complex and multi-faceted history?

D: You have gained reproductive capabilities I don't have/You now carry within your temple of flesh, the sainted orb that can bring forth life. _This is a DaVinci code inspired spiel. I actually hate, hate hate the romanticisation of/mysticism built around women’s ability to reproduce and it wouldn’t make sense for the Time Lords to have such a belief._

M: But we were always able to reproduce by mitosis. _This never comes up but the concept of Time Lords breeding by splitting in two goes completely unquestioned by all in this fic I love that subtle gag._ Not that it ever came to…Oh, increased genetic variability/O friend, were we not able to split ourselves in twain and begin our race anew? But such desperate measures in such times of loneliness. Ah but of course, the glimmering shining chances of life and variation are required.

D: Suggest remaining apart until solution is found./ Friend, O it pains me so but together we cannot be until we have found a solution to our pains. _So this shows that Adalusiadian_ _is more complex as the Doctor’s bare-bones English statement is very practical – “suggest remaining apart until solution is found” - but if you read the Adalusiadian_ _(I assume some people would have skimmed it) you see that “it pains” him. This is the most obvious example, but I wanted to show how the Doctor and Missy might talk to each other about their emotions without the Doctor’s friends hanging around._

M: Is it really an issue?/Problem, my friend? _Missy’s a troll._ Why must you be so against our coupling?

D: This body, less interested than others. In both parties, consent is questionable. Also nearly killed us multiple times./My anaconda does not, and our anacondas should not as they cannot say whether they would not, or would assent, to bun-wanting. Also, O dear friend, we nearly died and I take issue with living without you in a universe that also lacks me. _I like this bit because it starts with a Minaj reference and ends with something that’s kind of genuinely sweet on the Doctor’s behalf._

"HALTEN DIE TAPPEN!" shouted a guard, which translates to "please refrain from tapping, it irritates me slightly." _So I did a bit of German way back when and Halt die Klappe (or something) actually means ‘shut up’ so this is, I think, a vague and badly-translated pun. Tappen doesn’t mean tapping in German, obviously._

After their daring and dangerous escape, _which happens offscreen like all the Mistress’s escapes_ the pair met in 2023, in a remote section of the DMZ between South Korea and North Korea, figuring if they couldn't control themselves around the most fortified border in the galaxy at that point, they probably deserved to be shot. 

"Consent is still an issue!" shouted the Doctor from the South. _The Doctor’s in the South, Missy’s in the North. You don’t get more Subtle Symbolism of States than that._ "This body runs closer to demiromantic and demisexual than it has in a very long time! I feel that this new biological drive makes me uncomfortable!"

"I'm hedging towards the common Gallifreyan orientation of demi-pan-romantic and demi-pan-sexual coupled with the odd sexual subtext we've always shared!" the Mistress bellowed from the North. "Though when translated into English terms they lose their complexity! _In 90% of my fics about these two, just assume they’re speaking in Gallifreyan or whatever. This kind of nudged the fourth wall._ To be honest, it's your consent I am more worried about! I've always been the more forward one in the relationship!"

"That doesn't mean you can always assume consent on your behalf! And your mental health issues could throw your ability to give informed consent in the first place!" _I actually had a lot of talks about the themes in this passage, with a lot of different people. I’ve done less research for genuine marked essays._

"As recently former sexual partners-"

"Maybe for you, Harold Saxon was about a thousand years ago for me! I got married like five times in the interim!" _River and Marilyn Monroe, I figured there must be a couple of others we just don’t see happening._

"Really? Time flies when you're trapped in the hellish inferno loops of the Time War!" _Missy’s spells in the Time War will always be of great interest to me, because after her first escape they wouldn’t waste her as a soldier, but they’d still want her perspective. I reckon they’d have her as a strategist or engineer, under lock and key of course. I really think Moffat wasted his chances with the Time War and I’m not Gonna Talk about it more, because I’ll get pissy-_

"We should probably discuss Gallifrey when we get a chance!" _And they never do, which is basically all I want. In hindsight this proves the Doctor and Missy definitely communicated between Death in Heaven and the Magician’s Apprentice because his first move to her isn’t his middle finger and a shouted “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ABOUT GALLIFREY, BITCH” it’s either Pretty Woman or the Doctor’s [slides sunnies down] [nods] [Missy dies a little bit] move. Further, there’s basically no tension between them until Missy nearly tricks him into shooting Clara, which is a bit of a mood-killer._

"Yes but, as former sexual partners-"

"Yes, later! But we should focus on the matter at hand!"

"That's what I was TRYING to say, as former sexual partners-"

"Shut the hell up, capitalist pigs!" came a new voice from the North.  _Okay so we know North Korea loses this war, because they start it. The DPRK’s current deal with China is China will defend them if they are attacked; if North Korea starts it, they’re on their own. In this case, North Korea is the first to shout, so to me, they started it._

"You shut up, you commie bastards!" retorted someone in the South.

"AVOIDANCE FOR MY SANITY AND COMFORT?" bellowed the Doctor over the rumble of tanks. _Now I think about it I don’t know if South Korea would lead with a ground assault on the DPRK. You’ve got the US Military to help, use them._

"UNLESS THERE ARE EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES!" shrieked the Mistress over the roar of Soviet-era warplanes. "SHALL WE SHAKE ON IT?" _Elements of North Korea’s military equipment date from the Cold War._

"PHYSICAL CONTACT IS NON-ADVISABLE! THANK YOU FOR BEING SO UNDERSTANDING!"

"I'M THE QUEEN OF EVIL DOCTOR, THAT DOESN'T MEAN I'M AN INSENSITIVE DICK." there was the clatter of machine guns. "AT LEAST NOT TO YOU." _I kind of want ‘I’m the Queen of Evil, not an Insensitive Dick’ on a t-shirt. It does have kind of a 2008-Deviant Art icon feel to it though._

 

**"Major schools of thought in international relations fail to account for the influence of Gallifreyans in the outbreak of war between the Koreas in 2023, and so the outbreak has never been fully understood." - The Big Book of International Studies Lectures and Politically Correct Jokes About Inter-Asian Conflicts of the 21st Century, Introduction by Kate Stewart, p. XVI.**

Avoidance, and subsequently, abstinence, was successful for the next 2701 days (by the Doctor's personal timeline), with a few minor incidences. 

**The Journal of Minor Incidences, edited for brevity, brief excerpts.**

 Day 314: Attempted intercourse against the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg - apparently there was no skin-on-skin contact. Avoidance closure achieved when both parties threw out their backs simultaneously. Poor showing all round, really. Clara very unamused. _You’ll never get the full Winter Palace Story._

Day 776: City of Bervorses's floating roller-skating rink. Avoidance closure fulfilled by small red cactus alien skating between them at a key moment. Clara unamused. _Banakafalata or whatever his name was, his species. Obviously._

Day 1590: Shrunk down to tiny size on planet Essarossa, met while traversing through the highly symbolic petals of a rose. Avoidance closure achieved by Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods, by trapping the Mistress in a bottle and flinging her into a river. Clara slightly unamused.  _Courtney Woods for World President 2k16._

Day 2652: Landed on Mars, 2020ish. Surprised by appearance of alien who resembled Harvey Keitel from the 1970s, who proceeded to trap the Doctor and Mistress in a dark and rapidly cooling cave. Avoidance closure fulfilled by fellow Mars being, resembling 1970s-era Phillip Glenister, whose territorial displays were both dazzling and distracting, allowing the Doctor and Mistress (the latter, reluctantly) to be rescued by Clara, Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods and Martha Jones, who'd tagged along and been promised a David Bowie concert.

Day 2653: Mars, 2020ish. All parties had the same idea and went back the next day to capture footage of the Mars terrestrials. Ended with the Mistress, an irritated Courtney and a very unamused Martha all trapped in the same cave. Rescued by Clara and the Doctor riding in on a repurposed Spirit. Avoidance closure fulfilled by NASA, who slapped everyone involved with a giant lawsuit that would kill anyone's libido. _I have no idea why I dedicated 150 words of a relatively short fanfic to an extended riff on Life on Mars UK and US; it might have been because of John Simm’s turn as Sam Tyler and the myriad fanfics from that period where the Master was chameleon arched by Ten and sent to the 1970s and [falls asleep]. There was a lot of them, of various quality._

 

**"Wouldn't it be better if it were four men and they got sixteen women apiece? COME AT ME LADIES! It's also about ethics in game journalism." - some other guy on the internet.** _In hindsight, this dates the fic quite a bit as well. That said I think fanfiction of any continuing series always ends up dated as characters reappear._

 

Day 2702 was when their otherwise solid plan of running away from their problems came to a head. _I don’t remember writing that line, I really like it._ Of course it was in London. Of course it was the 21st century. Of course there were camera phones everywhere. The following year, the Mistress released a virus set to destroy the internet, and completely coincidentally the Doctor was unable to stop it until all evidence of their lapse in avoidance was erased.  _Clara: Doctor, the internet! Save it! The Doctor: [checks watch] just give it five more minutes. [nods at Missy in the distance]_

It was snowing. It was Christmas Eve, technically, but it's not really Christmas Eve unless you've had to wait through Bonfire night and the end of school and the arrival of the relatives and the office party and decorating and shopping and it means Christmas will be (9 times out of 10) the next DAY. It was however, shaping up to be one of those 1 times out of 10 deals. _This is a joke RTD made himself, about Britain always being under alien threat on Christmas Eve/Day._ Trafalgar Square. Buckingham Palace. The Houses of Parliament. All were inundated with invaders. UNIT was on site. The UN's Blue Berets had deigned to assist. Some rebooted version of Torchwood was present. _I never actually really got into Torchwood._ Martha and Mickey Smith-Jones showed up, still wearing paper crowns from their bonbons. 

It was a good showing, and all for an invasion of the bloody Grumblies. Five foot tall, four foot in circumference, fuzzy, pine-scented aliens with multiple gold glittery eyes and five red randomly placed beaks. One can imagine why they chose Christmas of all times to invade. Thankfully, Grumblies also explode on contact with antacid. _I’m actually very pleased with the Grumblies. I reckon you’d see them on Classic Who._ Less thankfully, the resultant minty-pine gunk that flies through the air is toxic to Time Lords and Ladies alike. _The problem with the Time Gentry is that you have to find an alien that’s either a physical or mental threat to them, as opposed to just an annoyance. I like that the threat here comes after the alien has technically been neutralized._ The Doctor stood behind the UNIT lines in a full-body hazmat suit, arms folded and feeling mildly ill as the Grumblies were hosed down. He didn't notice another hazmat-suited figure sidle up beside him, until the Mistress bumped into his shoulder playfully. _Trying to get that friendship element of their relationship across as well as the ‘driven to fuck like rabbits’ part._

"Merry Christmas," she said, watching the aliens get hosed down the drain with a similar look of distaste. 

"You're not behind this, are you?" he asked. "It's a bit bodily-fluids focussed to be a you sort of plan."

"I once resurrected myself with the DNA remnants of a kiss, Doctor-" _Do you ever like watch one of the RTD-era episodes that was like….really RTD?_

"Fine, the alien selection seems a bit twee. I mean the Autons are scary in the right light, but these things are just ridiculous. Have you been to their planet? Smells like cinnamon all year round. Awful." _The Twelfth Doctor is so gruff I love him._

"I didn't plan, I merely suggested."

"Really."

"And no one's died."

"You can imagine why I have trouble believing that."

"No," said the Mistress. "I made sure of it. Think of it as a Christmas present." _I’ve got a bunch of WIPs about the Doctor and Missy sort-of living sort-of happily ever after. Because Missy would never give up her shenanigans – if she did, she’d cease to be the Mistress - the compromise they often reach (which the Doctor is never 100% on-board with) is that Missy’s invasions only hit bad planets, or bad people. This is also why I’m kind of glad they didn’t bring John Simm back in hindsight, for a regeneration (Idk if he’d choose to come back) as the Master’s arc kind of finished with him ‘choosing’ good and saving the Doctor, though it was also equally about killing the fuck out of James Bond._

The Doctor turned to gape at her through his helmet. She turned and smiled up at him. "Merry Christmas," she began, then realised her mistake. "Ah, shi-"

And they didn't even have the excuse of mistletoe. _I think originally it was going to be mistletoe, which we don’t do in Australia. What the fuck is wrong with you people in Europe and America._

I don't know if you've ever tried kissing someone while wearing an anti-biological microbe, fluid-repelling Hazmat suit with inch-thick rubber all over the body and a two-inch thick see-through perspex visor, but you can imagine it's exponentially more difficult when the other person involved is also wearing the same version of the suit.  _For some reason I feel like this might be a garden path sentence, just in that you think it’s going to describe how hard it is, but no. It’s just harder when there’s two of them._

This didn't stop the Doctor and the Mistress trying though, and the force at which they went to (to paraphrase our German guard friend from earlier) to voraciously eat each other's faces was impressive and only hindered by the four inches (total) of perspex between them, which was being worn away fast. Friction, like biology, is an amazingly strong force. Somehow, the pair managed to stay upright, mostly through the 'unstoppable force hitting an unmovable object' effect often seen in extra-terrestrial mating urges. It was however, the Mistress who managed to tip the scales and sent the Doctor - closely followed by herself - slamming backwards into a UNIT van, denting the side _Time Gentry/Gallifreyans are canonically very strong, after all_. _I kind of like imagining them being slightly more alien the more time they spend around each other._ Tugging off their helmets in the brief break, despite the Grumbly threat, the Mistress advanced on the Doctor and yet more ferocious, unhinged kissing ensued. 

Around this point - well actually, the loud BANG that had come from the Doctor hitting the van - that many UNIT personnel had been alerted to the aliens behind their lines. Some who had dealt with their allotment of Grumblies pulled out their camera phones. One who was less concerned with internet fame called a very amused (but trying not to be) Kate Stewart, who was in the process of kicking Grumblies off the roof of Buckingham Palace. She rerouted the officers call through to Martha Jones, whose expression was almost enough to stop the two Gallifreyan-biology-driven libidos in their tracks.

Almost.

"Where's Clara?" she asked.

The Mistress moved down the Doctor's neck, leaving his mouth unoccupied and his face very red. "She's with that grandmother of hers who only shows up when she needs to talk to someone who isn't me or Danny," he panted. _This became less of an issue to me after seasons eight and nine but I really didn’t like Clara in season seven because she felt to me, to be a very flat character due to her lack of non-Doctor connections, despite nannying those kids whose names I totally remember. It’s probably a carry-over issue because apparently until very late in the game, Clara was going to be a Victorian governess but Moffat changed his mind so a lot of scripts had to be changed, fast and in many cases, poorly. Fight me. I adore Clara now, obviously. More or less. That’s 6000 words in itself._

"So she's not here, then?"

"Does she look like she's here?" the Mistress snapped, whirling around, then quickly turning back to her prior business. _Ask a dumb question, Martha, get a bitchy answer._

"All good," said Martha, grabbing her radio and letting the Time Gentry get back to their highly ungentrilike activity. "Hit them, boys," she said into the speaker.

The jet from a firehose was eventually enough to separate the pair long enough for them to skedaddle, dripping wet, back to their TARDISes.

"God, they're like stray cats," said Mickey, wandering up to his wife. "Though to be honest, gave me a few ideas."

 

**"Why do women run from me?" - that same guy from earlier.**

 

If day 2702 was the battle for France, and the Doctor and the Mistress's sense of control is France in this analogy, and Hitler is the intrusion of biological urgency, but unlike France they're weren't actually captured by the Nazis but they came really close to it, then day 2703 is like the Battle of Britain. In this case, the Doctor and the Mistress were London, and Coventry and Birmingham and other key industrial areas targeted by the Germans, and their libidos were again Hitler, but this time Hitler didn't try to take the Soviet Union and so won the Battle of Britain and destroyed both the Twelfth Doctor's virginity and the Doctor and the Mistress's social standings (though, to be honest, this mostly affects the Doctor as the Mistress is on no one's good books. Amazing how destroying a generous portion of the universe knocks you down a few pegs).  _I need to be clear here, this paragraph actually makes no sense and I honestly think I started it with one idea, finished it with another and then shrugged and never looked at it properly. “It’s like the Battle of Britain, but if Hitler won.” Then it’s not like the Battle of Britain. Dumbass._

 

Day 2703 went like this. 

There was no build up, or accidental path-crossing and plan-thwarting or nefarious plot of the week. _This went through several iterations of ‘how would they finally fuck,’ which is a question answered for millions of OTPs in millions of fanfictions every day. I think Missy comes to him (ha) in the end just because – Missy shows weakness in front of one person, and that’s the Doctor. That she was vulnerable (“I need my friend back”) in front of Clara and Danny is a coincidence, she’d basically forgotten they were there, as humans are beneath her notice._ There was a furious bashing at the door of the TARDIS where the Doctor had parked it near Coal Hill, but when he opened it, expecting a ticked-off Clara, he got the Mistress. _Which is worse? We just don’t know. Ticked-off Claras don’t tend to result in orgasms on his end of things._

"Can we PLEASE just have sex and get this over and done with?" she asked, pupils blown and as Courtney 'Disruptive Influence' Woods had put it, 'knees weak arms spaghetti.'

"Ahhh-" said the Doctor. "Is this what they call a booty call?" _Ten thousand dollars for Pcap to deliver this line. In a kilt._

Clara chose that moment to appear behind the Mistress and overhear the conversation.

"You-both-need-Jesus!" she managed to choke out, and irritated rather than enraged and grieving for the first time in months, stomped off to go drink with the other English teachers and make some friends her own age. "GO TO CHURCH!" she shouted over her shoulder, to the shock and later conversion of one of her students.  _Actually that is my favourite line from this fic._

"I don't know if you can currently give informed consent," the Doctor said, resolutely looking above the Mistress's head, but swallowing hard _I don’t know if she could either. But in this case it’s one of those ‘these are psychic beings so if there was an undercurrent of ‘no’ in her mind, he’d probably be able to sense it’ things_. "Like, I would definitely consent, but you look a bit-"

The Mistress grabbed the Doctor around the neck and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. _Fun fact, I hate writing kissing scenes, mostly because they reminded me I am not being kissed._ Tongues got involved, and for a few minutes the Doctor stood there, dazed, and enjoying himself immensely until he remembered they were parked outside a school. _Children everywhere, gawping. Courtney Woods, considering pulling her own eyeballs out._ Still kissing, he grabbed Missy around the waist and pulled her inside, kicking the doors shut behind them. Halfway through manoeuvring themselves towards the console, the Doctor again lost his head and got lost in the feel of Missy pressed against him, her warm soft lips, her roving hands, his coat and cardigan that had somehow vanished- _Another reason I don’t like writing kissing/sex scenes that begin at the outset of the sex (if that makes sense) everyone in Doctor Who wears fourteen fucking layers. This is also why in some of my sexytimes fanfics the clothes don’t come off. It’s not about art, I’m just lazy and don’t really know how corsets work._

"Outer space please," mumbled the Mistress. 

"Mmpf," replied the Doctor, but neither of them moved.

There was still a whole staircase up to the console to ascend, and so the Doctor grabbed the Mistress's upper thighs and heaved her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he moved them up the stairs to the TARDIS console. It took a team effort of hands fumbling blindly at the console (and elsewhere) to get the TARDIS into the vortex. Missy broke away from the Doctor, leaving them both gasping. The Doctor pressed his forehead against Missy's, and she smiled wickedly at him. He leant down to run his lips over the shell of her ear, and then across her neck. His hands seized at her waist. _I say “seized at her waist” a lot in my writing. I’ve made myself stop, because actually, what does it mean?_

"Finally!" she said, and they sank to the floor and out of sight.

 

**You thought there'd be a sex scene here, didn't you? Of all the depravity - this is a serious scientific inquiry into the reproductive habits of sentient endangered species. Typical sex-obsessed 21st Century citizens.**

_And there was going to be a sex scene here, like we’re talking ridiculous athleticism and acrobatics Time Gentry mind-meld shit and all that jazz. But. Nothing I could possibly write could ever be as funny and depraved as what people imagine to have happened. There’s another fic I’m working on with a lot of sex scenes but again it all dips in and out, and we usually more see the aftermath of something horrendously kinky or the conversation that occurs halfway through. “DO NOT. MOVE. YOUR WRIST.” “Why not?” “Because then that rope will slip – and the bucket of caramel will-“ “Yep, yep, I see it. I’m just. I need you to unwind your legs from my waist. Slowly.”_

An impressive chunk of hours later, the Doctor and the Mistress lay on the floor outside the Doctor's bedroom, amazed they'd made it that far. They were sticky, sweaty and completely stark naked, despite the Doctor's best efforts to keep Missy in her very interesting stockings and garter set. Missy rolled over to face the Doctor, the threat of eye contact abated after their latest activities. 

"Worth the wait," she said, flopping back and staring at the ceiling. "That thing with the-" she made a vague hand gesture, "-and the thing you did with your tongue, that was - yeah. Well done."

"How's your hip doing, after that?"

"Completely worth the dislocation." _Love the hip jokes, for some reason._

"Good, good. Thank you."

Missy propped herself up on an elbow and looked at him properly. He turned his head to focus on her, still looking vaguely shell-shocked. 

"I forgot that it smells," he said, with a strange, disturbed expression. "And I really think we're stuck to this floor." _When I say asexual Twelve, I mean asexual Twelve._

"Well as long as you don't fall asleep in ten seconds like your first body-"

The Doctor made a fake snoring noise, and Missy smacked him on the arm. Her hand came away slightly tacky.  _Like with the shoulder bump earlier, I’m trying to get that they do genuinely have a good relationship (good is not the right word….long-established relationship, with a lot of history and they do have good times together) across. There is fondness and familiarity there, which is again usually just briefly mentioned on Doctor Who._

"That thing that you did, with the-" it was the Doctor's turn to make a gesture, but he had to use two hands. "That was really inspired, actually."

"You know, I learnt that on Vikkigammora."

"The planet with all the tentacles? _Nothing I could write about tentacles would be half as fucked up as what y’all imagine._ Remind me to send them a thank-you card. Or a dozen, that would be more appropriate. _[fucked up levels increase]_ " The Doctor finally turned to look at Missy and took in her messy updo, smeared makeup and multiple love-bites. Slowly, he shuffled over - still slightly stuck to the floor - and rested his head on her shoulder, throwing an arm over her chest. He sighed.

"So," she said, into his hair. _This to me, implies more about her feelings to the Doctor than anything else, because if you’re talking into someone’s hair, that’s three senses (sight, sound and smell) engaged. You don’t get any real pleasure from the pose they’re in at this point, it’s about comfort and familiarity. Excuse me, I’m kind of creepy._ "What do we do now?"

"Hmm?"

"Well, the biological impulse is gone for now, and this was a best case scenario. I'm amazed we didn't destroy Belgium trying to fly the TARDIS blind like that. Then again, I wouldn't have minded destroying Belgium. I doubt the drive to procreate is gone forever. We're not cicadas." _Why do the writers of Doctor Who hate Belgium so much?_

"Ah, well," said the Doctor. "We could remove our reproductive organs."

"We don't have any reproductive organs, Doctor. We're Time Gentry. Looms." _I’ve never sorted out how I feel about looms and I have other priorities. Honestly I think of them more (on Gallifrey) as like really normalized IVF treatments, and if you just don’t want to get preggers but do want a baby, you grow your fetus in a loom. I don’t tend to engage with the EU unless I’m cherry-picking concepts from it._

"I probably should have mentioned that to Martha," said the Doctor. "And the bit about the mitosis."

"I cannot believe you went to Martha Jones for the sex talk."

"I didn't need a sex talk!"

"Well, I believe you after that bit with the ankles. But looms."

"You know, I always forget about those," said the Doctor, idly tracing a pattern with his fingertips on her stomach. _I like this, it’s oddly fond of him. Again, it’s very familiar and idle, like though the compulsion to shag was new, the actual sex is something they’ve done before over the years._

"I don't think the avoidance and bottling up urges methodology is a good long-term plan. I mean, we're not normal Time Gentry, and we're not American educators from the South. _[laughs, sighs heavily]_ Why can't it be like the old days when we'd cross paths, you'd thwart me and then we'd meet up later and I'd give you a good thwarting in return? And then tea and biscuits." _Thwarting was going to be a euphemism for sex if I picked up this story again, which I did, and then never used thwarting again._

"Because," and here the Doctor stopped tracing. "Because I have friends with me who have been horrifically hurt by you, and I'm not running off to have a quickie behind the astrophysics lab while they're around, or aware. _Quickie behind the lab sort of throws back to the Academy, though I’ve really gone off the idea of Koschei and Theta, shagging at boarding school, bein._ Biological imperative or not."

"Ahh, Gallifrey," said the Mistress. "And I guess there is your demisexuality to think about." _I think the Master, and Missy, does always care about the Doctor a little bit, deep deep down, which is also why the Doctor continues to care for the Doctor, because this is what the Doctor believes. When they’re not being observed is when this comes to the fore more._

"You know that compass needle is pointed pretty squarely at you, and that thing you did with your teeth while we were trying to get back down the stairs." _The sheer depravity._

"I'm flattered."

"We could have a roster," said the Doctor, sitting up with a disturbing unsticking sound. "I think I just lost some more of the skin on my back." _It’s just one of those – we know what’s sticky but Jesus Christ almighty how much of it is on the floor?_

"A sex roster? A sex roster."

"A sex roster, yes, that's what I meant."

"Can we show up for appointments twice?"

"How about, only on anniversaries."

"You're not thinking of bringing River, are you?" _I’d never even considered writing a fic with Missy and River and now I’ve written a[threesome](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5665117) with them._

The Doctor looked back at her. "No, why?"

She shrugged. "It's just a thought. Though you've got kind of a weird, Papa-Nicole thing going on there, with how you knew her as a baby and watched her grow up." _I just don’t know with River, especially with late-era Eleven treatment of her. I just don’t know. I did like the Christmas Special though._

"Yeah, to be honest, that's why I avoided her after that otters incident," he said. "That and she's dead. I think. I was never actually one hundred percent clear on that." _I still don’t know. Oh and I’d rather BE dead than stuck in the library suburbia fantasy heaven….place….thing….River’s in, to revive a very old argument._

"Sex roster. Right," said Missy. "Sounds like a plan. For now, let's go have a shower."

"Are we going to have sex in the shower?"

"If you like." _Taken from the end of Death in Heaven, obviously. Yes, they did have sex in the shower. So I actually had a lot of trouble ending this fic because there’s really only one issue, which is ‘The Doctor and Missy really want to have sex, and end up doing so’ but in most (non-D/M) fics the sex usually precludes the beginning of a relationship. But, as the Doctor and Missy have had a relationship for hundreds of years, the form of which is canonically quite fluid (from quite antagonistic to quite buddy-buddy, and that’s not in chronological order) sex more marks another new-old phase of their relationship. The other aspect that marks a phase change is that Missy is now the Mistress, not the Master, which is how I came to ending on kind of an anti-climatic note._

The Doctor helped Missy up, and the two of them set off down the corridor. Missy began to giggle.

"What-what is it?" 

"You know," said the Mistress. "You don't realize how ridiculous penises look until you don't have one."

 

**THE END.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! The reaction to this fic originally was quite unexpected and really lovely, so I think I'll always be quite fond of it. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, the Doctor and the Mistress have a conversation where they use a lot of sexuality and orientation labels - such as demiromantic, pansexual and so on - and within a humorous context. Though I tried to be respectful and have the humor come from the situation they're in, their location, and the fact that human sexuality labels couldn't probably fit long-lived alien beings that physically change their biological sex on various occasions, there is a chance that I may have offended some people. If you have an issue with that scene, please let me know and I'll be happy to take criticisms and alter it to remove anything that may be offensive. 
> 
> Further, the nature of consent is something I attempted to write about in a humorous manner and I hope that it was clear in the resolution of the fic that both parties could and did give informed consent to each other. Again, if you feel there's an issue, please feel free to take it up with me and I'll attempt to rectify or clarify it.
> 
> Thanks to Ilana for reading this over, and various people and friends for allowing me to ask them their opinion on various scenes and the nature of consent.


End file.
